The Worst Question
by TheDiiva
Summary: The words we don't want to hear are often the ones we need. Oh, but its so much easier to just pretend we're deaf, isn't it?


Theme: Time

 **The Worst Question**

-o-oOo-o-

 _"Life is nothing but a serious of compromises and disappointments." -Ja'Far, Twisted_

-o-oOo-o-

"C'mon, old man, hit me with your best shot!"

Burning pink blasts shot past him, grazing his body. The teen twisted and shifted, dodging the attacks by the skin of his teeth. It wasn't that Vlad had bad aim, it was that Danny was incredibly quick to the dodge. White and red flared before him, and he threw himself backwards, his tail splitting into legs as his gravity and momentum shifted. Inside his chest, his core thrummed. The excitement of the battle filled it with a sensation of euphoria, only a little doused by the caution of danger taking the shotgun seat. Vlad's heat rolled over him like a tidal wave, the man's outstretched fingers splayed like claws as the ectoenergy swirled about them. A fanged snarl glistened in the street lights, the rough winds yanking his cape open with loud whooshes. Danny back flipped, aiming his foot where he recalled his enemy's face being. His boot hit nothing, and he forced the movement to completion, vaulting full head over heels and bracing himself in mid air, right side up again. Fingers laced around his ankle, and he tried to spin around, yelping in surprise. The arm pulled, and he was dragged along, as Vlad threw him down the street. He slammed into the cracked pavement of the road, bouncing and rolling before skidding to a stop. Stars danced in his eyes and he shook his head, a motion his neck protested. A heavy landing to his left, footsteps fallowing.

"You might want to rethink wanting that, Daniel. You can't _handle_ my best shot. I barely use half my strength against you," Vlad mused. He kneeled down to the teen's level, wrapping his fingers around the back of Danny's neck. He tightened the grip and Danny drew in a hissing breath, his shoulders hiking to his ears as his entire body tensed.

"You're a liar. Though that should be kinda obvious, your entire life is a lie," Danny managed to spat, trying to weasel out of Vlad's grip. The older halfa just snorted.

"I tire of your petty jabs. They're anno- _OWW!_ "

Danny's fist collided with his collarbone, the other locking onto Vlads wrist as he bent himself backwards. The resulting pop wasn't as satisfying as the crack he'd wanted, but he'd take what he could get. Vlad yanked away from him, and he rolled to his feet.

"HA! You really are an old man if you got hit with that! You're losing your touch!" Danny pretended to hide a snicker, which turned real as he watched Vlad's teeth grind into themselves. The older halfa cracked his fingers, twisting his dislocated arm and pulling. The elbow clicked back into place, Vlad never once taking his eyes off Danny. Danny suppressed a wince, snuffing out the slight envy at how easily Vlad could do what he still screamed doing. Vlad stalked forward, rolling his sore arm and flexing his fingers.

"How quaint," he droned. Danny stood his ground, legs tensing in preparation of launching away from any incoming attack. Vlad sneered, setting his hands on fire, "Allow me to show you how _wrong_ you are!"

He lunged, Danny darted to the side. Flames licked the air as an inferno rose in the teen's path, the asphalt crackling and popping. Alarm flashed over Danny's face, his core shying away and trying to hide from the heat. Vlad's however, drummed with frustration and satisfaction all at once.

"Time— _ **OUT**_."

Everything stopped. The floating dust in the air and the rolling flames, captured like glass sculptures. Danny's eyes wide as he awaited the incoming pain courtesy of Vlad's fist. The elder was inches away from him, an obstical the teen couldn't get away from. Stuck between fire and enemy, danger no matter which way he tried to throw himself. Vlad's eyes were ablaze with a vibrant neon red, fangs bared in a sneer. The clock hands formed beside them, turning and connecting one place to another. It disappeared without a trace and the Master of Time lowered his staff. With it, his eyes narrowed.

He floated forward, his hand unhooking a medallion from his belt. The thick silken band fell over crested hair, dangling from Vlad's neck. His eyes cleared of the frozen fog, his muscles faltering as he regained control of himself. His battle cry ended sharply, weakly, as he stumbled midair, gravity resuming its pull. Blinking, his eyes darted from Danny to the fire, to the street. Finally, they landed on Clockwork, staring.

"What...?" Vlad slowly straightened, the absolute stillness around him uncomfortable.

Clockwork nodded once at him, "Vladimir Masters."

The voice of the ghost sent a tight chill down his spin and he eyed it, wary. He didn't trust this unknown ghost. He ran his tongue over his teeth, asking, "Who are you? What have you done to Daniel?"

The ghost hummed deeply, "Very well. I am Clockwork, Master of Time. Daniel is fine, merely frozen temporarily. You are exempt because I wish to converse with you," crimson eyes narrowed, and his voice hardened, "Immediately."

Vlad crossed his arms, "What could you possible want with me?"

"You are important to the time line. Most of it has been shaped, directly or indirectly, by your actions and choices. You are the deciding factor," Clockwork explained, floating slowing around behind the fire, "So I need to ask you a question."

Vlad's eyes fallowed him, "Ask, then, I'm busy."

"What do you regret?"

Vlad froze, "...Excuse me?"

"What do you regret?" the ghost repeated.

"How ridiculous, I regret nothing," The words spilled from his mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He held himself higher, throwing confidence and conviction behind his answer. It was true, he knew it to be. He didn't understand why the ghost would ask that, why the 'Master of Time' would even care about such a thing.

Clockwork tilted his head, "You don't regret not talking with your friends about your feelings for Madeline? You don't regret telling Jack alone about it and learning that he shared the same feelings for the same woman?"

"No," Vlad snapped quickly. Clockwork ignored him.

"You don't regret working with them on the Proto-Portal, you don't regret standing in the way, you don't regret doubting it all? You don't regret being friends with them? You don't regret trusting the hospital? You don't regret not going to the baby showers, both of them? You don't regret resorting to thievery, to trickery, to cheating, to get to the top, not because you needed to, but because it was _easy_? You don't regret waiting ten years, fifteen, _twenty_ , before you decided to do something, because every time you thought about trying, you decided you didn't have _enough_? You don't regret letting your anger boil and burn and tear apart the morals you once held steadfast and iron tight? You don't regret hurting Daniel over and over again, trying to teach him lessons you know he'll never learn because he's not you, his heart and mind don't work that way? You don't regret keeping your anger and frustrations inside, turning yourself into a silent ticking time bomb that has been cracking for years, waiting to go off at the slightest mishandling touch? You don't regret putting everyone in danger, for becoming what you have-"

" _ **Enough**_!" his fist slammed into a lamp post, denting it. The metal glowed dull red when he removed his hand, shaking the sting out of it. He glared at the Master of Time.

Clockwork just nodded, "So you do, then?"

Vlad snarled, " _My_ choices and _my_ past have _nothing_ to do with anything, I do what I want!"

"If you could, would you change any of it?" Clockwork turned away, looking at the empty street. Vlad grumbled, forcing himself to straighten and regain his composure.

"Ridiculous, I would not. This is all a means to the end. The prices are worth the gain," he answered.

" _What_ end? _What_ gain?"

Vlad snarled, fingers clenching into a fist, " _ **MY**_ happiness! _**My**_ family, _**my**_ love, what I'm owed and what Jack Fenton _took from_ _ **me**_ _!_ "

"You don't have a happy ending, Vladimir. You don't win. You never can."

"Not possible. I just haven't found a way that works," he snapped.

"And you never will. I've seen every possible ending to every possible path that could happen from this moment onwards. None of them end they way you want. Some are better than others, some are worse than others. It all dwindles down to **you**. What **you** do. You can try as hard as you can, do terrible, horrible things, sacrifice everything and anything. But you don't get your happy end. It doesn't _exist_."

"I don't believe you. You're bluffing. You can't have seen every possible time line's end. There will always be a variable that you've missed, a trigger for a new one to grow. I'll find one of those that you missed, and I _will_ have everything I've ever wanted," Vlad shook his head. He didn't believe that, he couldn't. The ghost knew nothing.

Clockwork tilted his head, "So you plan to continue to try?"

"I must! Failure isn't an option, I've put too much into it all," Vlad snapped, "And you trying to scare me away from doing so has failed."

"Very well," Clockwork nods, and turns. He pauses for a moment, then turns an eye back towards Vlad, "Just one more question,"

Vlad glared, trying to burn holes into the ghost's back. Coincidentally, he felt like Clockwork's eye was burrowing deep into him, imploring something from him. He tried to push the feeling away. This was all nonsense.

"Will you regret it?"

AN: Pardon me while I continue to indulge myself with taking my favorite characters and bending them until they break, forcing them to expose their deliciously vulnerable mental insides.

Regret is one of my biggest obsessions, right up there with consequences and reasons. Regret is a powerful, aching feeling, an agony that never really soothes or goes away. Regret is a reminder of time lost, of things undone. I hate the feeling of regret almost as much as I fear it. The worst thing for me is looking back on my life and not being able to stop the feeling of "Why didn't I", "I could have" "I shouldn't have" "I wish I had". The agony of my lost time rivals on my paralyzing fear of death on things that absolutely cripple me to think about.

And I feel like Vlad would be exactly the same if he ever stopped pretending he didn't care. The apathy mask is a defensive measure. I wear it too, to try to cope whenever I look back and begin to hurt. Vlad's got a hell of a lot more regrets than I do, its a good thing he's such a good actor. He'd gonna need that skill when the pain keeps getting worse.


End file.
